


rain in the middle of winter.

by ushjima (kongniverse)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Sickfic, i am super gross
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 17:43:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4970314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kongniverse/pseuds/ushjima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If there was one thing that Hanamaki Takahiro hated doing more than admitting that he was wrong, it would be admitting that he was wrong to Matsukawa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	rain in the middle of winter.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday to my dearest Kurii! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this lovely matsuhana fluff fic, I decided not to angst cause we both know we're weak to angst and we love sappy happiness. I hope you like this humble offering of mine. Happy birthday!! (•‾⌣‾•)و ̑̑♡

If there was one thing that Hanamaki Takahiro hated doing more than admitting that he was wrong, it would be admitting that he was wrong to Matsukawa.

The thing is, Hanamaki was pretty stubborn. When Matsukawa had told him to not stuff an entire portion of chocolate cake into his mouth, in fear of an upset stomach, Hanamaki shakes his head and calmly said _‘Psht, don’t worry. I’ll be okay’_ and proceeded to eat the entire cake anyway. The next day he was running back and forth to the bathroom and Matsukawa just sat on the couch and hopelessly shook his head. There was also another time where Matsukawa told him to not leave the window open during the summer because insects would crawl into their apartment and Matsukawa _hated_ insects. If he can clearly recall, that night Matsukawa spent a good hour or so, scratching at his backside, thighs and arms from pesky mosquito bites.

Matsukawa never understood where that sense of pride came from. Hanamaki never liked being in the wrong, or at fault or even owning up to his mistakes and negligence that caused other people to suffer. This has been the way it is since he first met Hanamaki back in high school. This was the guy who insisted that “Hey, Oikawa’s serves doesn’t hurt _that bad_ to get hit in the head with” till a serve gone wrong smacked Matsukawa at the back of his and he spent the rest of practice having an ice pack pressed onto the growing and painful bruise.

“Makki, put on a jacket. It’s like seven degrees outside and the weather forecast said it was going to rain soon.” Matsukawa snarled. Hanamaki lets out a small ‘ugh’ before turning his head to Matsukawa.

“Seven degrees is like nothing, you know it’s usually below zero right? This is like _warm_.”

Matsukawa wonders how Hanamaki is so smart, that it was almost stupid. Like Oikawa. He was getting ready for his nightly run, a routine Hanamaki has always done since his middle school days and Matsukawa applauds him for that, for he has neglected any form of exercising upon entering his hellish and busy days of university. Nowadays the most exercise Matsukawa got over the past year was when he dashed up those ten flight of stairs in their apartment building when he forgot his paper in his bedroom.

“Alright. But if you get sick, I to--”

“I told you so? Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine. You worry too much.”

“I won’t worry if you’re not stupid, you know.”

“Say that to my GPA.” Hanamaki got up and brushed his hands on his shorts. “I’m going. I’ll be back in an hour or so.” He presses a kiss onto Matsukawa’s cheek and jogs out the door, closing it shut behind him. Matsukawa stands at the entrance for a few moments before sighing and unfolding his arms. He bends over to clean up the mess that Hanamaki made in his process of searching for his running shoes in the shoe rack.

“Idiot.”

**\--**

It wasn’t until a good 40 minutes later that Matsukawa hears the light sound of the rain. He turns the TV volume down for a moment to listen to the drops that were growing heavier by the minute. It was relaxing. The atmosphere of an empty apartment, the rain in the middle winter and how he was nestled underneath the flannel blanket for warmth and big hands cupping around the warm mug of milk tea that he has finally perfected in making. If Hanamaki was in at the apartment, _god knows_ if it would ever be as peaceful as it was right now. Matsukawa’s phone suddenly trills in the silence, vibrating from a phone call that lit up his screen. It was Kunimi. He places the mug on the coffee table in front of him and with a single hand, gropes for the device.

“Matsukawa-san,” The familiar tone of his underclassmen whispers softly into the speaker.

“Hey, what’s up?” Matsukawa replies, sounding delighted to hear Kunimi’s voice. It was only 7pm and he could tell that Kunimi was still at practice from the yelling and sounds of volleyballs slamming against the gym floor in the background. This only means that Kunimi had snuck off into a corner to cheekily play on his phone. The way he remembered it, Oikawa always found out exactly 0.5 seconds later.

“Yahaba-san keeps yelling. My head hurts.” The underclassmen sighs and Matsukawa couldn’t help but laugh apologetically. Yahaba’s way of captaincy is different to Oikawa’s. Yahaba is strict and “the ready-to-beat-you-up if you ever act up” type and Matsukawa wonders how such an angelic face can hide so much anger. Especially towards Kyoutani. And if Matsukawa’s eyes weren’t mistaken, he can clearly remembers seeing the setter lecture Kyoutani at the sidelines during last year’s spring high playoffs.

“I’m sure he means great, Kunimi. Captain’s just want the best for the team.”

“Yeah but, Oikawa-san never yelled.”

“That’s because if Oikawa yelled, Iwaizumi will yell even louder and we don’t want that, do we?”

“I guess not.” Kunimi agrees and before Matsukawa could say anything back to the underclassmen, he heard an exchange of muffled conversation between Kunimi and someone else that he couldn’t quite make it out, but judging by how cheery and friendly the voice was, it could be Watari or Kyoutani who accidentally inhaled too much helium and sounded three octaves higher.

“Matsukawa-san, I have to go. Please say hi to Hanamaki-san to me. I hope he doesn’t have cavities yet.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve been limiting the amount of sweets that he can eat. Run along now.” Matsukawa hangs up the phone and places it on the cushion beside him.

Hanamaki isn’t home yet but he should be storming through any second now. Matsukawa decides to just turn up the TV and continue to indulge himself in a cooking show that he found strangely amusing and the food in it was delicious enough that he could feel himself drooling just from watching. _Oh right, I haven’t made dinner yet_. Matsukawa groans and unwillingly gets up from his nest of blankets and pillows on the couch. He has to make dinner or else he’ll be hearing Hanamaki wail about how hungry he is after his run and he was in no mood to hear anyone’s bitter and sappy complaining.

And he was right. Again. As usual.

The moment Hanamaki storms through that front door with his clothes soaked from the rain and hair plastered onto his forehead, he complained. It was along the lines of “Why isn’t dinner ready yet?” or “Eh, you’re still cooking?” and if Matsukawa wasn’t bothered at the trail of mud that Hanamaki had just tracked on to the floor, he would’ve thrown the soup ladle that he was holding dead straight into Hanamaki’s forehead.

“Kunimi called earlier,” Matsukawa rolls his eyes at his boyfriend. “You’re drenched. What did I tell y--”

“You worry too much.”

“You’re _shivering_ , Makki.” Even after a year of dating, he is still amazed at Hanamaki’s stubbornness and how hard it is to tell Hanamaki if something is bad for him. “Go take a shower.”

“Would you care to join me?” Hanamaki smirks, peeling the soaking wet shirt off of his body and dumping it on the floor. Another mess that Matsukawa will have to clean up later.

“If I join you, there won’t be food for you to eat after you finish showering.” Matsukawa replies and continues to tend the food that was simmering in the pot. “Take a hot one. If you get sick, it’ll be a pain in the ass for me.”

“Whatever then. Your loss.” Hanamaki disappears down the hall. Matsukawa quietly sighs to himself. As much as he admires Hanamaki’s individuality and his certainly unique way of thinking and handling things, he is unbelievable sometimes. The guy is intelligent despite the amount of ridiculously dumb things Hanamaki does over the years, he was always, magically, remain in the top ten of their grade.

It was like being a mother to a young rebellious boy, but this rebellious young boy is your boyfriend and you are not his mother so the chances of him actually listening to what you say is very slim unless Matsukawa actually rings Hanamaki’s mother and tells him personally how much of a stubborn brat her son is so she can knock some senses into his head.

**\--**

Matsukawa picks up on the one thing he has dreaded ever since the night Hanamaki had come home drenched from the rain. He had been waiting for this, in all his regrets and sanity left in this world after starting to date Hanamaki Takahiro.

And to make it an even more pain, it was on one of their rare day offs. Matsukawa was sitting on the floor with papers spread out in front of him and trying to at least sort them out before he has to go back to university tomorrow. Hanamaki wasn’t up yet but Matsukawa can hear the faint sounds of coughing and sniffing all the way from down the hall.

That was it. The thing Matsukawa dreaded so much.

Hanamaki caught a cold. Hanamaki is sick and Hanamaki is the type of person that when he’s sick, he likes to convince himself that he’s not sick by doing things that made him more sick. And the person that has to be his all-time babysitter is Matsukawa, of course. The mix of stubbornness and neediness from being sick just doesn’t go well. Hanamaki emerges from the bedroom, the blanket worn over his shoulders like a cape, eyes watery and nose red.

“Good morning, how was your sleep?” Matsukawa asks. Hanamaki walks down the hall in a daze and is completely out of it and only nods back in response before making his way to the kitchen for a drink.

“If you want breakfast, I can make it for you.”

“I’m okay.” He answers, voice was croaky and heavy with sleep. His hands were busy opening cupboard after cupboard in search for a glass. Creating a large ruckus for 10AM.

“Far left cupboard.”

“Mattsun,” Hanamaki drones from the kitchen.

“What’s wrong?”

“We’re out of milk.”

“Have something else, I’ll grab some when I’m down at the supermarket later on.” Matsukawa feels like he is babying him too much. “Have something warm.”

“But I want milk--”

“Don’t be spoiled.”

It pains Matsukawa that sometimes he has to be stern with Hanamaki like he’s being stern to a 10 year old instead of a near 20-year-old 184cm tall man. He had the knack to be a little childish and spoiled now and then but whenever Matsukawa feels like he needs some responsibility knocked into Hanamaki’s head, he gets all lecture-y on him and Hanamaki loathes it.

Hanamaki shifts into the living room, draping his body over the couch behind Matsukawa. “I feel dead. My body feels so hot.”

“You’re exaggerating--”

 **[10:41] Tooru Oikawa** : I heard a little strawberry blondie is sick.  
**[10:41] Tooru Oikawa** : Should Oikawa-san drop by and bring him some homemade soup?

“Oikawa messaged in the group chat—“

“Tell him to fuck off with that homemade soup of his, I don’t want diarrhea too.”

 **[10:45] Hanamaki Takahiro** : Be useful, bring me creampuffs instead.  
**[10:47] Iwaizumi Hajime** : You can’t eat creampuffs when you’re sick  
**[10:47] Hanamaki Takahiro** : Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Iwaizumi.

“If you pout any harder than that, your lips are gonna fall off” Matsukawa jokes around and pinces one of Hanamaki’s cheeks. He earned him a bite on his fingers.

Hanamaki covers his head with the blanket and lays in complete silence, trying to get back to sleep because his cold is killing him and Matsukawa gets back to sorting his papers for tomorrow’s lecture. From the small hole in the wrapping of his blankets, he peeks through and watches Matsukawa. He watches the big long fingers filing through the stacks of papers, fingers that has certainly tangled its way in his hair and comforted him in sleepless nights. And then he looks at Matsukawa’s hair. Messy as always, and Hanamaki hates it. The messiness. But he doesn’t hate the soft feeling of it brushing against his cheeks when they’re cuddling.

And Matsukawa had such broad shoulders. He loved wrapping his arms around those shoulders. It gave a sense of security and comfort, and coming home to it after a long day of university was what he loved the most. Hanamaki’s colleagues weren’t the most bearable people, but neither was Oikawa at first, but he got through that and Oikawa turned out to be one of the bestest friends he has ever had. Even though now and then they still jab at each other and Matsukawa and Iwaizumi had to tell them off like rowdy elementary school kids.

“Is-sei” Hanamaki mumbles in a playful tune from underneath the blankets, his hand reaches out to play with one of the curls of Matsukawa’s hair. “Your hair is like a piggy’s tail, so curly”

“Yeah? Do you like that?”

“Can I straighten your hair? Maybe I can borrow Oikawa’s hair straightener”

“Oikawa doesn’t have a hair straightener—“

“We don’t know that now, do we?”

Matsukawa hums for a minute and nods in agreement. “You’re right, we don’t.” Hanamaki tries to stomach in the idea of Oikawa asking if he could straighten Iwaizumi’s hair, but he knows that’ll either end in a bloodbath with Oikawa losing or the hair straightener breaking in half as Oikawa tries to hold Iwaizumi down onto the floor.  

“They’re a dumb couple.” Hanamaki concludes.

“Oikawa is probably sneezing now cause you’re talking about him.” Matsukawa smiles, feeling his boyfriend’s fingers now trailing all over his back, sculpting every curve of his backside. He felt ticklish. Hanamaki is writing something on his back and he prays it’s something sweet and romantic instead of profanities like “dumbass” or “asshole”.

“What did you write?” Matsukawa turns around to face Hanamaki once he felt the absence of Hanamaki’s finger from his back. Hanamaki blushed a little and Matsukawa wanted to comment about how the of pink on his cheeks were almost the same shade as his hair, but he’s pretty such Hanamaki could still pack a mean punch even if he was sick.  

“Hm? I just wrote the word “butthole”, did you really think I was being romantic?” Hanamaki squeals as soon as Matsukawa’s hands grab at his waist and tickles him. He goes to hiding his face back into his blanket cocoon, squirming as he’s trying to steer his ticklish spots away from Matsukawa whose repeatedly jabbing at his sides and he’s laughing so hard that a few tears ran down his cheeks.

“Issei, stop!” Hanamaki pleas, trying to push Matsukawa’s strong hands away from his stomach. “I’m going to throw up if you keep tickling me, you know I’m sick!”

“I’ll stop once you kiss me, Takahiro.”

Hanamaki stops his squirming for a moment, peeking his face out of the blankets to find how close to his proximity Matsukawa’s face already is, hair brushing against his cheeks as Matsukawa leans in closer and closer, their noses bumping against each other, Matsukawa’s breath hot and heavy and lips that were no more than three centimetres apart. Their gaze into each others eyes were longing and Hanamaki wants nothing more than to tangle his fingers through that messy black hair and kiss him.

So he did.

Their kiss was deep. Slow. Hanamaki pressed his lips onto Matsukawa’s. Despite the awkward angle of Hanamaki laying down on his side on the couch, buried underneath the blankets and scattered tissues. His fingers moved from cupping at Matsukawa’s jaw to tangling in the soft, black locks to pull him in closer and he tilts his face to the side a little to deepen the kiss, lips parting slightly, letting Matsukawa’s tongue into his mouth, rewarding him with a small, soft whimper that escapes through his lips.

“You’re gonna be responsible if I get that stupid cold of yours, Takahiro.” Matsukawa whispers before pulling away from the kiss. Hanamaki is already another alarming different shade of red after that kiss and he groans before pulling the blankets to hide his face again.

“Shut up” He wails. “Taking advantage of a sick person. You know that I’m weak when I’m sick.”

“I know.” Matsukawa smirks. “And I’ll be here if you ever need someone strong to take care of you.”

“You’re so fucking cheesy.” Hanamaki knees Matsukawa’s back playfully and the taller boy can only chuckle before returning back to sorting his university papers.

**\--**

That night Hanamaki felt like he was burning all over his body. His ears were burning, his fingers, his stomach and even his toes and he tosses and turns in bed, trying to get to a comfortable position so that he can fall asleep. He looks over at the clock on his bedside drawer. It was 2:31AM. Hanamaki felt that the world was against him. Despite it being in the dead of winter, he found sleeping with the blanket on too hot, maybe it was because of his running fever and if he slept with the blanket off, he’d be shivering and his toes would probably fall off.

“Fuck--” He groans, lying flatly in the middle of his bed and facing up to his ceiling. There was no sound outside, meaning that Matsukawa has also gone to bed. Natural since he has a class in the morning and Hanamaki usually starts later in the day compared to Matsukawa. He reaches out for his phone that was charging at the end of the drawer.

Two messages from Oikawa, asking him if he’d prefer homemade soup or homemade porridge. Both were a bad idea since Oikawa was a terrible cook and god forbid he ever enters the kitchen. There was also another message from Iwaizumi, saying that he’s coming over tomorrow with his own homemade porridge. Good since Hanamaki trusts Iwaizumi more than Oikawa in the cooking department. There were also messages from his mother, telling him to get well soon and rest properly and he wonders how differently it felt being sick when he’s all alone and hours away from his hometown. Usually he’ll have his mum checking in on him now and then.

He kind of misses her.

Hanamaki rises from the bed and slowly tiptoes out of his bedroom and down the corridor. The living room light was off and it was completely dark aside from the vague lighting from the street lights outside. He tiptoes closer to Matsukawa’s room and turns the handle slowly so he wouldn’t wake the taller boy up.

“Mattsun,” He whispers as he reaches closer towards the bed. Matsukawa was sound asleep. He looked cute when he was sleeping and Hanamaki almost didn’t dare to wake him up but he can’t sleep and he was sick so Matsukawa can probably let this slide.

“Matsukawa,” He says again in a slightly louder voice, his hands now gently shaking Matsukawa’s arm trying to wake him up. “I can’t sleep.” Matsukawa’s eyelids slowly flutter, letting out an annoyed groan and pulling the blanket over his head before rolling onto his side.

“Issei!” Hanamaki shouts and Matsukawa jolts awake.

“What the hell--” He half shouts, hands rubbing at his eyelids so he could get a clearer vision of the boy sitting at the edge of his bed. “Hanamaki?”

“I can’t sleep.”

Matsukawa sighs and moves his body over aside, letting a big enough space for Hanamaki to crawl in and sleep. He pats the empty space beside him, indicating Hanamaki that it was okay for him to sleep in his bed. Just for tonight. And Hanamaki without the slightest hesitation, curls up underneath the blanket with him and rests his head on Matsukawa’s chest. He can hear the taller boy’s breathing and his heart beating slow against his ear.

“This is just for tonight, okay?”

“---Okay.”

Matsukawa tries, at least, to fall back into his peaceful slumber before Hanamaki had barged into his room and woken him up in the dead of the night. He watches Hanamaki’s eyelids slowly flutter and closing, all the tension in his face slowly unwinding and his body warm, probably due to the fever, pressed closed against his side. His hand clutching at the hem of Matsukawa’s sweater.

“I feel awful.” Hanamaki whispers, nuzzling his head into the crook of Matsukawa’s neck. “I shouldn’t have went running that day.”

“Yeah, you were pretty dumb.” Matsukawa chuckles lightly, his fingers trailing down the curve of his boyfriend’s spine.

“You were right.” He sniffs, wiping his runny nose on Matsukawa’s shirt and Matsukawa lets out a disgusted grunt and pushes Hanamaki’s cheek away from his shirt. “There. I said it.”

“I want to hear you say it properly--”

Hanamaki clicks his tongue. Dammit Matsukawa, why.

“Fine. You were right. I was wrong. I should’ve worn a jacket and I’m the dumbass who’s now coughing and spreading germs everywhere.”

Matsukawa couldn’t help but giggle at his boyfriend’s bitter statement of fault. Hanamaki always struggles with admitting that he’s wrong. He always has. But nothing beats the flustered expression he wears and the desperate attempt of hiding his face away whenever he does. It was adorable. It made Matsukawa want to pinch those reddening cheek of his. But instead he ruffles Hanamaki’s hair, hugging him in closer. It felt warmer underneath the blanket now.

“Good night Takahiro.” He whispers, placing a kiss on Hanamaki’s forehead. “Get well soon, my idiot.” 


End file.
